Sometimes, you reach a point where you have to stand your ground, and that’s exactly what happened to me. This story is about how I went from being the laid-back neighbor to someone who served up a slice of justice with a little extra something on the side.
My name’s Mandy, and let me start by saying that I’m not one to hold grudges. I’m a firm believer in “live and let live,” the kind of person who prefers to keep the peace and not sweat the small stuff.
I live in a small, quiet suburban neighborhood. You know the kind, where everyone waves at each other in the morning and you can leave your doors unlocked without a second thought. It’s the perfect place to raise my two kids.
Our home has a charming little garden out front, complete with a white picket fence—the whole package, really. But as idyllic as it sounds, even paradise can have a few thorns.
The Thompsons — John and Sarah — moved in next door about a year ago. They seemed nice enough at first. They were in their early 40s, two big dogs named Max and Daisy, and had no kids. We exchanged pleasantries, borrowed a cup of sugar here and there, and I even gave them some of my homemade chocolate chip cookies as a welcome gift.
You know, just your typical neighborly stuff. But after a few months, things started to change, and not for the better.
Those dogs quickly became the bane of my existence. Don’t get me wrong, I love animals, but these dogs had a habit that was driving me up the wall. They’d do their business right at the edge of their yard, but they didn’t stop there. No, the Thompsons had devised a little system.
They’d wait until they thought no one was looking, scoop up the mess, and then—get this—they’d toss it right over the fence into my garden. It started off as an occasional thing, but before long, I was finding piles of dog crap in my flower beds nearly every other day.
At first, I tried to give them the benefit of the doubt. Who throws dog poop over a fence on purpose, right? I figured it had to be some kind of accident. So, I decided to address the issue directly, hoping a friendly chat would solve the problem.
One afternoon, as John and I were both out in our yards, I decided to bring it up.
“Hey, John,” I said with a smile, trying to keep things light, “I’ve noticed some dog poop in my garden lately. I think it might be from Max or Daisy. Could you maybe keep an eye on them when they’re outside?”
John turned to me, his face breaking into a tight-lipped smile, the kind that doesn’t quite reach the eyes. “Oh, I’m sure it’s not them. Maybe it’s your kids,” he said with a slight smirk, as if he were mocking me.
I was taken aback. My kids? Really? I wanted to argue, but I could see that John wasn’t in the mood to admit anything. I didn’t want to escalate things into a shouting match with my neighbor, so I decided to let it go—for the moment, at least.
But I knew I couldn’t just let this slide. They weren’t going to stop unless I did something about it, and confronting them directly hadn’t worked. So, I decided it was time for something a little more… creative. Something subtle, yet effective.
A plan started to form in my mind, and the more I thought about it, the more deliciously petty it seemed. If they were going to keep throwing their dogs’ crap into my yard, I was going to give them a taste of their own medicine—literally.
Now, I should mention that I’ve always been a pretty good baker. My chocolate chip cookies are legendary around here, so I figured it was time to put that reputation to good use. The plan was simple: I’d bake a batch of cookies, but with a little twist.
The next day, I gathered my supplies—flour, sugar, chocolate chips, and a little something extra. I’m not proud of what I did next, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I went out to my garden, put on a pair of gloves, and scooped up some of the offending material, sealing it in a bag.
Now, before you jump to conclusions, let me clarify. I wasn’t about to use actual dog poop in my baking. But I needed something that would get the message across.
Instead, I headed to the pet store and picked up a bag of the smelliest dog treats I could find. These little brown nuggets looked just like chocolate chips, but they had a distinctly unpleasant odor. Perfect. I mixed them in with the real chocolate chips, baked up a fresh batch of cookies, and let them cool.
As the cookies baked, the scent wafted through my kitchen. The aroma of chocolate mixed with the pungent smell of dog treats created an odd, unsettling combination. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was exactly what I needed. I could barely stomach it, but I pushed through, knowing the Thompsons were about to get a taste of their own medicine.
Once the cookies had cooled, I carefully packed them into a shiny, decorative tin. To add a final touch, I wrote a note in my best handwriting:
“To the best neighbors, enjoy these fresh-baked cookies! – The Wilsons”
I chuckled to myself as I imagined their reaction, but I wasn’t done yet. Timing was everything. The next day, I waited patiently until I saw Mrs. Thompson head out, likely on one of her daily errands. With the coast clear, I darted across our lawns and stealthily placed the tin of cookies on their porch. Then, I retreated to my house, positioning myself near the window so I could observe the aftermath.
It didn’t take long for the chaos to begin. That evening, while watering my garden, I heard a commotion erupt from the Thompson household. The dogs were barking like mad, their deep barks echoing through the quiet neighborhood. Amid the noise, I caught the unmistakable sound of Mr. Thompson shouting, “What the hell is wrong with these cookies?!”
I couldn’t resist the grin that spread across my face. This was better than I’d imagined. I knew they’d discover that something was off, but I hadn’t anticipated just how quickly it would all unfold.
Several hours later, I overheard the Thompsons having a heated discussion in their backyard. Their voices were low, but they carried clearly across the fence.
“Those Wilsons gave us some kind of sick prank cookies!” Mrs. Thompson hissed, her voice filled with anger and embarrassment.
“They must’ve known about the poop,” Mr. Thompson replied, his tone a mix of frustration and guilt. “What are we going to do?”
“Just keep quiet,” she said, her voice firm. “We don’t want the whole neighborhood knowing we’ve been throwing dog crap over the fence.”
I nearly dropped my watering can. There it was—the confirmation I had been waiting for. They were guilty, and they knew it. And now, they realized that I knew too.
But here’s the best part: a few days later, something miraculous happened. The dog poop stopped appearing in my yard. It was as if by magic. My little act of revenge had worked, and I couldn’t have been more pleased.
Yet, the story didn’t end there. A few weeks later, our neighborhood hosted a BBQ, and the Thompsons showed up. They seemed subdued, keeping mostly to themselves and avoiding eye contact with me. But I wasn’t about to let them off the hook that easily.
“Hey, John! Sarah!” I called out cheerfully, waving them over with a plate of fresh cookies in hand. “I’ve got some more cookies for the party. Want to try one?”
Their faces went pale as they caught sight of the cookies. They mumbled something about being full and quickly excused themselves, practically fleeing in the opposite direction. I chuckled to myself as I watched them scurry away. The rest of the neighbors happily devoured the cookies, unaware of the inside joke between me and the Thompsons.
As the evening wore on, I overheard some of the neighbors chatting about the Thompsons.
“Have you noticed how quiet their dogs have been lately?” one neighbor asked.
“Yeah, and their yard’s been spotless,” another added.
It seemed my little act of creative revenge had not only solved my problem but had also reformed the Thompsons’ behavior. They were now the model neighbors, all thanks to a little ingenuity and a lot of nerve.
NHL Star Johnny Gaudreau, 31, and His Brother Tragically Die: Details
Reports have stated that Johnny Gaudreau and his brother recently passed away. Details divulging the tragic news have been shared online.
NHL star Johnny Gaudreau, 31, and his brother, Matthew Gaudreau, were tragically killed after the two were struck down by a passing car in Oldmans Township at approximately 8:30 p.m. on Thursday evening, August 29. According to authorities, the brothers were riding bikes on a rural road in New Jersey called Stumpy Lane when the accident occurred.
Johnny’s hockey team, the Columbus Blue Jackets, posted a statement about his demise on X earlier today, August 30. The lengthy message notes how devastated and shocked the team is by the sad news.
Boasting about how incredible of a player and person Johnny was, their statement divulged, “Johnny was not only a great hockey player, but more significantly a loving husband, father, son, brother and friend.”
They go on to highlight how joyful Johnny would be in every game he played—a joy that was felt by everybody else who got to see the late star play. Johnny always brought his A-game and passion for the sport everywhere he went.
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His hockey career took him from Boston College to the Calgary Flames to Team USA to the Blue Jackets, where he served as the team’s winger.
“The impact he had on our organization and our sport was profound, but pales in comparison to the indelible impression he made on everyone who knew him,” mentioned the Columbus Blue Jackets in their statement.
The grieving team went on to reiterate how much the superstar athlete is missed by them and their community and ended their message by asking the public to pray for the Gaudreau family, who are dealing with an unimaginable loss.
The Columbus Blue Jackets also asked that the bereaved family’s privacy be respected. In the same way that Johnny’s hockey team shared a statement about his passing, the Commissioner of the NHL, Gary Bettman, shared some words about the tragedy as well.
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He penned a lengthy message on the official Public Relations website page of the NHL that spotlighted the incredible legacy Johnny has left behind as one of the League’s “brightest young stars” during his impressive 11 seasons in the NHL.
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“We send our most [heartfelt] condolences to his wife Meredith; their children, Noa and Johnny; his parents, Guy and Jane; and sisters Kristen and Katie,” wrote Gary at the end of his statement.
The devastating news of Johnny and Matthew’s passing comes after numerous reports had first announced that the accident had taken place. However, at the time, the two victims had not been identified as Johnny and Matthew yet.
A report from 6abc Action News discussed the scenario and divulged that the New Jersey State Police disclosed that the person who had been driving the vehicle that struck Johnny and Matthew had stayed on the scene after the accident. Authorities also shared that they believed the driver to be under the influence.
X was also ablaze with announcements about the accident. A woman named Elaine Shircliff posted, “Spoke with the New Jersey State Police and was informed they are getting bombarded with phone calls and cannot release any information at this time.”
She added that they could not confirm or deny the rumors that it was indeed Johnny and his brother who were the two victims.
However, on the same day Elaine tweeted her message, another X user named Steve Franklin shared an update of his own. In Steve’s update, he said that his brother, who is a police officer in Salem County, New Jersey, confirmed to him that it was the late NHL star and his brother who died.
After this tweet, Tim Peel, a retired NHL referee, took to X to say, “Reports are that Johnny Gaudreau and his brother Matthew were killed by a drunk driver [tonight]. Please pray that this is not true!”
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